After refilling his mug, she fixed eggs for both of them. Sitting across from him as they ate, she couldn’t help thinking that no man on earth had a right to look that effortlessly hot. The old T-shirt clung lovingly to his wide shoulders and lean arms.
It just wasn’t fair.
He set down his empty mug. “What?”
“Why do I feel like you’re up to something?”
“Because you’re naturally suspicious?”
She glared at him. Suspiciously. “I know you have eggs at your house.”
A slow, killer grin. “Yeah, butyou’renot at my house.”
She grunt-laughed. “Can’t stay away, huh?”
“You think you’re joking, but yeah. That’s about the size of it.”
So he was here to seduce her? Somehow, she didn’t quite buy that. She challenged, “Is this it, then? Is it happening at last? Are you finally going to give in and deflower me?”
“Damn.Deflower. Where did you come up with a word like that?”
“Hmm. Not sure. Shakespeare, maybe. Any number of really juicy historical romances, definitely—and you notice how you failed to answer my question?”
He studied her. She felt his gaze as an actual caress, tender. Purposeful. Arousing. “I just need to be sure thatyou’resure.”
She got up, grabbed her plate, carried it to the sink and dropped it in there. It didn’t break, but it landed with a clatter. She whirled on him. “Do we have to analyze it to death? Can’t we just do what feels right?”
He picked up his own plate and came to her. “Madison.” Without so much as a hint of a clatter, he set his plate down on top of hers. “Listen to yourself.” He took her shoulders, turned her and made her face him. His eyes searched hers and his hands were so warm and strong as he held her in place. “I don’t think you’re sure.”
She braced her hands on his lean hips, easing his T-shirt out of the way so she could hook her fingers in his belt loops. “You’re making me crazy.”
He bent close. She felt his breath, warm and sweet on her lips. “Is that such a bad thing?” And he kissed her.
With a hungry little cry, she flung herself hard against him. He wrapped those lean, strong arms around her as his lips played over hers and his hot tongue delved in. She felt him growing hard against her belly and her heartbeat throbbed, insistent and deep.
It was glorious. His big hands glided down her back to cup her bottom and pull her into him, closer. Harder. He smelled so good and he tasted like everything she’d been missing out on for way too many years—someone who really did like her just for herself. A guy with no agenda beyond what any guy has with a girl he’s attracted to.
When he lifted his head, he said, “Go for a ride with me?”
She stared up at him, dazed in the loveliest way, her body humming, the world soft and blurry around the edges. “Sure.”
“I’ll put on some boots.”
“And I shall formulate an effective disguise.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, she had on a chin-length black wig à la Uma Thurman inPulp Fiction, a straw boater and a great pair of retro tortoiseshell sunglasses. She ran around the back of Sten’s house and found him right where he said he’d be, waiting by the open garage door.
They jumped in his truck and headed up the road that led out of the cove. He took Third Street south into the heart of Valentine Bay, where a pretty park appeared on the left.
A minute later, he was steering to the side of the street and pulling in at the curb. The engine went quiet as he switched it off.
She turned to him. “We’re going for a walk in the park?”
“Look over there.” He pointed at a rambling, three-story Queen Anne monstrosity across the street, on the edge of the park. It was a gorgeous old house in its way, with an excess of dentil moldings and several balconies rimmed in fussy iron lace.
“The big pale green one, you mean?”
